Where the Herons Fly
by Chair Meow
Summary: They've fought hard and are now weary to the bone. They've been nameless all their lives and they just want to find a home. A story of how Shadowhunters came to exist and the obscure few who sacrificed it all so the Angel's legacy could never end. READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!


XXX ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO CASSANDRA CLARE XXX

_Rome, 1164_

The crowd was unnerving, twitching nervously like wolves that could already sense the bloodshed. They moved, swarming like flies around the gates, hoping for a look at what lay far beyond.

Mundanes loved to welcome home their so-called heroes.

All that they were truly waiting for was to see how many had actually come back from this latest skirmish.

They were in constant war and their empire was burning. All she had to do was sit back and watch.

"Blood thirsty little creatures," a low, masculine voice whispered into her ear as a hand closed around her elbow.

"I hate it when you sneak up on me," she muttered as he gently extracted her from the throng of people. He was so much taller and bigger, yet after a childhood of putting up with Valerius' games, Livia didn't mind it half as much as he thought she did.

"Come on, before this all this gets worse," Valerius answered and for once she knew that he was actually right.

She held her cloak tight around her body, feeling the coolness of her blade brush again the skin of her thigh. She felt safer, knowing that Valerius' glamour now extended to her, yet she still sunk her hands into her robes to feel the safety of the weapons she had on her.

"This way," she whispered as she spun, eyes glued on the cobblestones. She could see Valerius' dark cloak, and under that just a flash of tanned skin.

Finding her way, even in the near dark, was as easy as breathing. She'd grown up here, maybe been born here, and there was no nook or cranny in this city that she did not know.

She walked fast, like she always did. At this hour the citizens were either congregating at the city center or in their own homes, and for the most part, the closer she got to her doorway, the less and less people they saw. Even the homeless, dressed in their tattered clothes and smelling of sweat, were not in their usual spots.

As they hurried by a fountain, she caught sight of Valerius throwing a coin into it. It was something his foster mother always did, and it was something Livia had never believed in.

The streets got smaller, the walls closer to her body, until she reached an entirely inconspicuous door. The walls were the color of sand, unmarked except for the dirt of long days.

She felt along the folds of habit for the hilt of the dagger she was never without. Valerius made a sound of displeasure behind her, which Livia fully ignored. She pulled the dagger free of the light colored dress and in one confident swipe, prickled her forefinger.

"Thank the Angel. I thought you were going to imitate Alba and nearly amputate your own hand off," he muttered as she smeared her blood across the surface of the door. It wasn't a lot of blood, but enough that the wards recognize who and what she was.

She rolled her eyes at him, which he didn't see because of the hood of her cloak. She pushed the door opened and led the way in. The witchlights flared and Livia was surprised to find that none of her foster siblings were gathered around the table.

"Alba? Caius?"

"It's very interesting, isn't it?" Valerius asked. "Those two seem to be gone a great deal these days."

He walked past her, towards the hearth. His shoulders were large enough that he blocked the firelight. As he walked towards the warmth, he pushed the hood of his cloak off, revealing all that brown hair that was a wild mess on his head. It had been several weeks since she'd last seen him, and Valerius looked…different from her childhood friend. In her small living quarters, he was too big and too intimidating.

"Enclave business takes them away early and brings them back late," Livia told him as she shed her cloak. She walked back to the door, bolting it and checking the windows. They were safe, but she never stopped checking. "You should know. You've been gone for a long time."

In the glow of the witchlight she almost couldn't see the color of his eyes, which were the sharp color of peridots, but she still knew that he wasn't happy. Valerius had a gift for communicating his displeasure over her actions with total silence.

"It couldn't be helped," he replied quietly. "If we hadn't chased the last horde out of city limits, Rome would have fallen weeks ago."

"And yet you refused to let me help you."

"Your time will come," he said quietly.

Livia nearly laughed. "My time is here, Val. My birthday is tomorrow. I've already waited far too long."

"That is a presumption. We have no idea when your birthday truly is. Or mine, or Alba's, or Caius'. You might have months left before you turn eight and ten," Valerius answered.

How well aware of that Livia truly was.

When the Enclave had found her, a babe of undetermined age, she had been alone with three other children in a nest of demons. They had been parentless, nameless, and forgotten.

Jonathan Shadowhunter had been their salvation.

He had rescued them, taken them into his family, and raised them with care and affection. He had raised them to have a purpose.

A war raged on between demons and humans—and for the first time mundanes didn't appear to be as strong as they had first believed.

Mundanes were weak, corruptible, of low morals and greedy.

Demon nests sprouted everywhere and they preyed on those souls. They took mundane women, raped and killed them, stole children and left devastation in their wake. Yet the mundanes continued to be oblivious. They gather in larger towns and in the city-states; Rome, in particular, was a magnet to them, easy pickings. There were more lost souls here than anywhere else. So many victims.

In her short life, Livia had seen more blood shed than the soldiers of the emperor could dream of. She had taken lives herself. The Enclave had taught her how, prepared her for it. And tomorrow they would gather to celebrate her birthday…to watch her drink from the Cup of the Angel, and to become Nephilim just like Jonathan, Valerius, and her foster siblings.

Valerius dreaded tomorrow. He had been dreading it since he himself had drunk from Raziel's Cup and become a full-blooded Nephilim.

"You've come to argue?" Livia asked.

"I came to make sure that you won't make a stupid mistake tomorrow," he growled. The witchlights flared even more, driven by the sheer power of Valerius' anger.

She finally got a good look at the sharply defined, austere planes of his face. Despite the fact that they had been raised as orphans without a name or place to call their own, his broad forehead, bladelike nose, and squared chin stamped him as the scion of Nephilim; only they possessed such hard, chiseled, coldly beautiful faces.

Her heart gave a distinctly faster thump.

"That being?" It wasn't smart to defy Valerius. He might have been sweet and gentle and playful when it suited him, but today he was like a wounded bear.

"The Sisters! You have been spending your days with the Sisters!" He shouted.

Perhaps she had underestimated Valerius' reaction to the news. Livia had known that eventually he would find out, that Caius couldn't be trusted to keep a secret if he tried. She could almost hear Alba say: "Did I not warn you?"

She tried to keep herself calm, to balance out his anger. It wasn't easy; she was the fiery one between the two of them.

"I don't know what you mean." Ignorance. It was a safe option.

Those green eyes narrowed and Livia inwardly grinned, despite knowing better.

"Adament," He snapped. "You've been helping them built their citadel."

"Why does that bother you so much?" It hadn't at first, when they had been little and a sister named Ursa had cared for them. She was the earliest memory Livia had; a tall, stately woman, ageless, dressed in white, with burning orange-red eyes. She had had a beautiful laugh.

"Because!" He sputtered. "Because!"

He raised his hands and raked his fingers through his hair. When he began to pace, she simply sighed and turned towards the kitchen table. There was food laid out, most likely Alba's work. A loaf of bread, hard cheese, and fruits.

"It's an honorable life, Valerius." She cut the bread and cheese, putting it on a plate and sliding it across the table to him. "You didn't think twice about drinking from the Cup. You gave yourself to this cause. Why can't I?"

He couldn't argue with her logic. He grumbled a little, stomped for barely a second before he approached the table and sat down.

"It's a lonely life," He muttered. He grabbed the loaf of bread and ripped it in half. "Bloody. Even Jonathan hates it at times."

"But we have a devotion. We swore to the Angel that we would do his bidding and protect the humans."

"You haven't sworn anything yet, Liv." He gripped the edge of the table. "You can be normal. Happy. Leave Rome and forget all about the evil you've seen here."

"How can I be happy when all I've ever known is this, Valerius? You, Alba, Caius, and the other Shadowhunters are the only family I've ever had. How can you ask me to leave Rome and give up on a goal I've worked all my life towards?"

"I doubt this is what your real parents would have wanted for you."

"I follow the laws of the Angel, Valerius. I have long let go of dreams of finding my parents." It was tiring how every time they saw each other this was what their friendship had become. "Come tomorrow, I will take my vows. Whether it pleases you or not."

She could see the battle waging inside of him. Her friend wore his feelings in his sleeves. It was a tangible thing. Livia let him sit in silence as she picked up a clay jar and poured him water. He simply stared at her.

"You've no mercy on my sanity, do you?"

"You've never had any on mine," she laughed and sat down next to him. He was frowning at his food still which made Livia worry. He wasn't done yet.

"Would you join the sisters?" He asked, eyeing her.

"If I joined the sisters you would never see me again, you know. Once Adament is built, the sisters will live in seclusion," she reminded him. "Or I could take up arms. Jonathan tells me that I am frighteningly good with a blade...for a human, that is. Imagine once I'm like you."

"I don't know what's worse. You far away with nothing but fire and weapons to keep you company, or you underfoot, within the reach of demons," He said as he sat back.

She laughed. "Valerius, would you let me join the warriors?"

He was watching her intently. Warily.

"Your wanderlust will get us both killed," He finally said. He looked resigned.

"Anywhere I go, you'll go with me?"

"To Hell and back."

X

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My heart ached for something I couldn't explain, but nothing fixes my problems quite like a blank piece of paper. I needed to write this, to share what I imagined the beginning would have been like. I took a lot of creative liberty with this one. I argued with myself a lot over whether the first Herondale had been a man or a woman. In that case, my mind still isn't made up. Which is why both Valerius and Livia have Herondale qualities. Both still looking for a home, for place to belong and they wouldn't even be here if the response for The Things You Don't Know hadn't been so strong. I have all of you to thank for that. And I have StarWarsHarryPotterfangirl27 88 to thank for making sure that as all of this poured out of my brain, the grammar was correct and things were in order. As always, I write this with all my love,

-The Chair


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